


In which Grantaire works

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Pre-Barricade, Prostitution, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Grantaire finally tells everyone what he does for a living.
Kudos: 5





	In which Grantaire works

“Have you ever actually worked a single day in your life, dear leader?”

“I have in fact. I suppose you’re too drunk all the time to work?”

“Ah, that’s where you would be wrong. I assume you do something fitting of yourself, like writing?”

“I do.”

“Well the scum of the streets that you claim to care for are not so lucky. They are given no choice as to what they do, for they were not born into money.”

“And I would not judge a man or woman for having to work a job of ill repute, it is the fault of the bourgeoisie and the king, not themself.”

“Then think not to judge me.”

“Grantaire-” Bahorel starts to say, but I wave him off.

“Then tell me what it is you do.” Enjolras says. “Would people pay to hear a drunk cynic’s ramblings?”

“No, they pay for my body, Apollo.” I shoot back.

Enjolras’ mouth falls open, for once I have rendered him speechless.

I can’t help but smirk with pride.

“Yes, dear leader. I’m a whore. A sodomite at your meetings, a prostitute tearing apart your arguments.”

“Perhaps we should adjourn this meeting?” Combeferre suggests.

“Grantaire, it is only you scorning yourself.” Enjolras snaps. “If you truly knew me you would know I care not what jobs people hold, especially not people where their jobs are all they have. You have no other way to make money, it is not your fault. But you condemn yourself for it, you stigmatize yourself and goad others into mocking you simply for your narcissistic pleasures.”   
“Ah yes, that’s exactly why I do it. For pleasure. I just love being fucked, I love all the wonderful attention I get being spat on on the street and being beaten in bed.”

“I did not mean to suggest- I was saying that no one is mocking you. I do not mock you for this. You  _ want _ me to react unkindly to this.”

“I do not! I simply know exactly how you were raised! You were raised rich, dear leader! You were raised to despise drunk, cynical whores like me. You claim you empathize with the poor, but you don’t understand them one bit. You show up to give your speeches with your fancy vests and shiny shoes, when Feuilly and I are arriving in working boots! People can barely buy bread, and you have the luxury of fine clothes, even if you do refuse to claim your inheritance.”

“Well there’s other work that pays better. Feuilly isn’t, in your words, a ‘whore.’ You did choose this job.”

“Well I’d prefer it to begging on the street, as doing such could result in my being arrested.”

“You could be arrested for prostitution as well.”

“Not if I offer my services to the right men.” I raise an eyebrow, knowing Enjolras will catch my meaning.

To sell my body is one thing, but to sell it to police inspectors and rich scum?

I can see the shock and horror in Enjolras’ face, it’s so satisfying.

“Out.” He says quietly, now not even directing his cold gaze at me. “I will not let supporters of the bourgeoisie make a mockery of these meetings.”

“Supporter of the bourgeoisie-” I splutter, enraged that Enjolras would accuse me of having ulterior motives to my job.

“Out.” He repeats.

“You know where to find me if you ever require… release.” I spit back. “Heaven knows you can afford it. And I  _ know _ your father back home would be proud.”

I don’t wait for Enjolras’ response, just stride calmly from the Musain.


End file.
